The Psychology of Romance
by lovemeartless
Summary: The Nation of Love is once again faced with his toughest rival for England's attention, and he is determined to win back what is rightfully his, at all costs! (Warning: Yaoi/shounen-ai/BL, frack (fluff & crack) & FWP (fluff w/o plot).) FrUK of course.


**Warnings:** Grown men doing cute sissy things. FrUK. Francis Bonnefoy  & Arthur Kirkland.

 **Disclaimer:** Please take the time to read the (lengthy) standard disclaimer on my profile page. It's for _all_ my Hetalia stories, so once you've read it you'll never have to read it again. Cheers! :D

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Story #195:

 **"The Psychology of Romance"**

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"I'm not in the mood."

France despondently eyed him from his corner of the couch. The Englishman was telling the truth. His posture was relaxed; his breathing minutely agitated – but not because he was trying to waylay him, no…

England was knitting.

As always, he was very serious about it. And _as always_ , the Frenchman found himself feeling— jealous.

France remained still, transfixed by those concentrated brows and firmly set lips, at those steady hands that flicked and twisted the needles expertly. All prior attempts to go between him and his knitting had been in vain. As a result, he was pushed to very opposite end of the not-so-lengthy couch. The silence was thick, tension palpable.

 _Cruel._ That was the word that kept popping into France's mind. No, it was beyond cruel, it was _unjust_. England smelled so enticing, fresh from his morning shower. The Englishman never used perfume of any sort, yet his scent was like pheromones to the Frenchman. The tangy sunflower and jojoba aroma wafting from his hair, the stringent aftershave, and the honey and butter body wash that suffuses so well, with the nostalgic Earl Grey and rose petal fragrances that incessantly lingered about him. France swore it was the smell of innocence begging to be defiled. _Merde._

"You should smile at ze very least," he commented quietly albeit sourly, like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

Wary golden-verdigris orbs finally regarded him and he was taken a little off guard. But it was only for a second, then the Englishman's attention returned to his work. France pouted, actually feeling like throwing a tantrum.

"Ze recipient of zat item must be very special since you're giving it all your 'ard effort. Like cooking, you 'ave to do it widz a smile –not widz knotted brows- uzzerwise it won't come out best."

"I'm not going to smile for no reason at all! Least of all because you have once again imposed your presence upon me. Now do you mind? I'd appreciate it ever so much if you pretended to be a throw pillow for the remainder of your unwanted stay."

"I'd be delighted to be a throw pillow, _mon ami_ , if you promise to put me on your lap."

"I would much rather throw you out. And pillow or not, I could."

"Oh, _cher_ , at the very least you must smile! _Mon grand frère_ is 'ere! You should be happy I take time off my busy schedule for you!

"The only reason to smile you can possibly give me is if you turned invisible… preferably extinct."

"I'll do more zan zat! I'll tell you a story! I know 'ow you adore your trite little romanticisms."

"Amuse yourself all you want, if it will get you to stop interrupting my flow!"

"Are you aware zat your choice of words are so assiduously seductive on a subliminal level?"

"Frog, it's that ineffectual grey matter in between your ears that's all-a-kink, not my perfectly innocuous words."

"'Innocuous' is ze last word I would ever zink to describe any part of you, _mon mignon rosbif_."

"Your depraved opinions are heart-warming, though hardly ever solicited, Francis."

"I thought I was invisible, darling Ar'zurrr?"

"Which is apparently doing nothing to diminish your ability to kibitz."

"Luckily it doesn't diminish my talents as a raconteur eizzer!" France brightly announced, then he cleared his throat:

" _Once upon a time, zere lived a young and unforgivably good-looking French prince…"_

England's brows furrowed. _Deeply._

" _Ze prince was rich, he 'ad every'zing anyone could ever want. But despite 'is wealth and sinful gorgeousness, ze prince felt zat 'e was missing some'zing…"_

"I venture a guess it's his brains."

"Nuh-uhh!" France gracefully waved a finger at him. "It's _l'amour,_ of course! After all, even if you 'ad every'zing, it's not'zing widzout love!"

"Right— ow!"

The Englishman sucked on his pricked finger, fixing France with a withering glare but remembering to ignore him the next minute. And they both went about their business:

" _Unbeknownst to 'im, a grumpy and recluse –but young- son of an English wizard dwelt at ze very top of ze castle tower. Zis wizard 'ad a secret: He was smitten widz ze prince! But 'e avoided ze prince forever, zhinking zat wid his 'ideous British eyebrows ze prince would never love 'im. Still, he had a kind heart, and because he knew ze prince was lonely, 'e was determined to cheer 'im up. Even just for once, 'e wanted to make ze prince smile…_

" _Zat full moon night, a grand ball was 'eld for ze prince. Princesses (an' some princes as well) from all over ze land came to dance wiz 'im, and 'opefully win 'is heart. But as ze night deepened, so did ze prince's loneliness for none of ze fair princesses (or princes) was nearly as gorgeous an' perfect as he was. Ze prince was losing hope… Until a maiden wid snow-white skin and ze most bewitching copper-green eyes arrived and ze prince knew 'e 'ad found ze one! Zey danced until zheir feet ached and ze clock struck midnight. When ze prince averted 'is gaze, ze fair maiden was gone!_

" _Ze prince was 'eartbroken and ill ze very next day. Zey searched far and wide for ze mysterious maiden wid ze malachite eyes - in vain. Every doctor in ze land was summoned to cure ze prince's sorrow but sadly, zhere zey too failed. Zey feared zheir beloved prince was going to die…"_

The sound of clicking needles was all that could be heard for the next full minute until it came to a halt.

France gave a loud, booming yawn.

"And then what? Was that it?"

"And zen…" France said lazily, getting up from the couch. "I shall take a nap…"

"Whut?! Are you actually going on strike in the middle of the story?"

"I will continue it, after my nap."

"No! You will continue it now, or I will incorporate you into my knitting project!"

"I will gladly continue it for you, _cher_ , if you stop what you are doing, and lie in bed upstairs widz me."

"Ohhh no! I'm not falling for that!"

"Fine, zen." Francis moved to leave.

"Wait!" England took a deep breath. "How about, you finish the story, and if I like the ending, I might –might- stop what I am doing."

"And?"

"And… fine! Lie in bed with you!"

"Deal.

" _Ze recluse young wizard was distraught! He never meant to cause the prince any suffering. He could bear ze prince's suffering no more. And so despite 'is fears, he descended from ze tower wen everyone 'ad left, and revealed himself to ze prince in a last attempt to save 'im. He apologized to ze prince and kissed 'is cheek and was about to tell him ze whole truth, when ze prince opened 'is eyes and a bright smile broke upon 'is face. 'It's you!' he said, life flooding back to his indigo-blue orbs. Ze wizard was shocked ze prince recognized 'im, and 'e fell to 'is knees begging for forgiveness. But ze prince, too overjoyed, could not 'elp 'imself, 'e flung 'is arms around ze wizard and kissed 'im on ze lips. He zen immediately called an audience and made a royal decree. 'Zis wizard saved my life! He is ze one I choose to marry and give 'alf of ze kingdom to!'._

"And as ze cliché goes, zhey lived 'appily, ever after… _Finis!"_

England's eyes were watery, his cheeks light pink. And France was very pleased with himself.

"H-how…" England began.

"How did ze prince recognize ze wizard was ze maiden?" France interjected. "Simple. Because ze wizard's heart was beautiful and pure unlike no uzzer." Then leaning down to daub at the corners of England's eyes with a gentle thumb he added, "And because formidable brows or not, 'e could easily tell such spellbinding malachite eyes apart from all ze others in ze world."

England seemed satisfied with that explanation.

"Well, of course, zey consummated zheir love… But I can do better zan tell you, I will show you, if you only put down ze needle and take up something else more interesting with me instead."

England closed his eyes and drew in a deep, drawn-out breath, and it looked for a moment as though he was going to retaliate, but instead, he let out the breath in a calm sigh and eyed the Frenchman's outstretched hand.

"Oh bother."

The English Nation put down his knitting instruments, and he was immediately scooped up by his persistent and bothersome, but very persuasive French prince into his arms and carried off to the bed chambers.

Francis inwardly fist-pumped.

Another point for him against the Englishman's needlework!

 **The End.**

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 **Notes:**

This is pointless, yes? Well, sometimes that's what we need (haha!).  
Cheers! –Marie (*^^)~x

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(04/15/2013 - 08/30/2013)

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 **X-posted:** LM_Artless {AO3} / frukdilection {dA}

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 **My DBZ & other fics**: MariekoWest {AO3} / MewrSaidTheCat {FFnet}{dA}

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 **Original** (Hetero-) **Stories & Prose**: Lovisa_Baobab {AO3}  
 **Blog/Works Archive** : mariexfolie {fc2 blog}


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